Into the Fire
by Calico0128
Summary: Chapter 5 is up! Beck and Travis thought they left it all behind them, but you can only run from your past for so long. Slashy undertones with the potential for full slash fun! :D Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

nervous laughter/ Well, if anyone has come here from the _Rugrats _fandom, I'm sorry for not completing _All Those Years Ago_ before doing this. I'm a naughty girl, I know... but, well... okay, yeah, no excuse. I'm just sorry, hehe.

This story is dedicated to Boxer Thief, the only one to actually comment on my other _The Rundown _fics and did so in a very flattering way. I was actually working on another concept for _The Rundown _when this story just jumped into my head and demanded to be written. Please enjoy! :D

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"Where do you think you're going!" Beck shouted as the SUV's passenger door slammed shut. Travis froze halfway up the driveway and turned to give Beck a questioning look, "Help with the groceries! Idiot."

Beck went around the car and opened the back up. Approximately twenty canvas bags, filled to the top, were waiting there. They'd spent all morning grocery shopping. Their first stop was the farmers market where they purchased two weeks worth of fresh fruit and vegetables. They had also stopped at the meat market to get organic, grass fed beef and chicken, and then followed up with a trip to an all-natural grocery store for everything else. After spending three hours grocery shopping with Travis, his neck was tight with tension and all he wanted was a cold beer and a nap.

Travis came back to the car and took two of the bags, grinning up at Beck as he said, "You got the rest, right Big Boy?" He danced out of reach of the fist that swung out to cuff him upside the head, and then darted up the walk to the small house they were currently renting (under false identities, of course, all courtesy of a trusted associate of his). Despite the fact that he was annoyed at Travis's behavior, he was glad that the younger man was comfortable enough to play around. The last few months had been stressful, particularly for Travis and there were periods when he would shut down and not act like himself.

It had been a long six months after their escape from Billy Walker. They'd spent most of it just city hopping, barely two steps ahead of Billy's goons. There had been some close calls, one of which still caused Travis nightmares. They had been renting out a small cabin in Tahoe, out in the woods. He still wasn't sure how, but the goons had tracked them down and opened fire on Beck. He'd been hit in the shoulder and had gone down. It wasn't serious and it had pissed him off, but not as much as when he witnessed one of the goons pistol whip a struggling Travis. When it was all over, four men were dead and Beck and Travis got away, but barely. After that, they'd been able to slip under Billy's radar and had settled in a medium sized city in Colorado.

The very sight of their little two bedroom home filled him with an indescribable warmth. It was small, but new and had a beautiful kitchen; bright and open with stainless steel appliances, marble counter tops, and a double oven. While not perfect, he was still happy to come home to it. He had never really had a home. Not one that he enjoyed coming back to anyway. They had always been too angry, too violent, or too lonely to create any warmth in his heart. Now he was surprised to find a smile alight his face every time his eyes found their house.

At the moment, however, he scowled at Travis's retreating back and grabbed several bags before following him, prepared to shove his boot up the other mans ass when he caught up. The front door had been left open and he rounded the corner into the kitchen with some speed, only to slam straight into Travis, who was standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

"Dammit Travis!" he roared and sidestepped him to pass, only to trip over the bag laying on the floor next to the younger mans feet. He landed hard on the linoleum, dropping his four bags as he did so. Cursing, he turned to glare at Travis, who was staring slack jawed into the living room. It flashed through his mind that Travis had not reacted to anything that had just happened. On high alert, he jumped up, scanning the living room, arm coming up instinctively to push Travis behind him. The younger man reached up to grasp Beck's upper arm to steady himself.

Two men sat in their recliners: dark suits, sunglasses, earpieces curling down into their collars. Feds. How could he have missed this? Surely they had a car parked outside. He should have noticed! He began edging backward, down the hall, Travis still shielded behind him, and then he realized he was acting like a man guilty of something, which according to his new identity, he wasn't. He stopped and wondered what an innocent, every day man, might do.

"Who the hell are you?" he shouted and managed to inject a small amount of fear into his voice.

"No need to yell, Mr. Beck." The darker skinned man said. Shit. They knew who he was. "Don't worry. We aren't here for you." He added, smirking as he shifted his gaze to Travis. Rage flared up in his chest as Travis's hand tightened on his upper arm.

"Come and sit." The other said, gesturing at the sofa. Beck considered their options. If the feds knew who he was, then they'd probably come prepared. Surely, there were more men waiting outside in case he tried to run and he wasn't stupid enough to get into a stand off with federal agents, if he didn't have to.

"Tell me why you're here, first." He said coldly. The FBI agents exchanged a knowing glance and a smirk, which only served to anger him more.

"We're here to make a deal with your friend." The second man said. Beck waited, lips pressed tight together. A moment passed and the agent sighed, "We need Travis to infiltrate Billy Walker's business."

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Hope you liked! Please review! (I have the next chapter just waiting to be posted!)


	2. Chapter 2

Meh, not sure how I feel about it. Ah well, such is life.

Please enjoy and review! :D

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The silence was deafening. Travis's hand on Beck's arm was now vice-like and Beck didn't need to turn around to know he had a terror stricken look on his face.

"No. Absolutely not." He said finally, his voice firm and resolute. The agents frowned, almost imperceptibly.

"That's not your decision, Mr. Beck. And you have yet to hear our end of the deal. Now, come sit and talk with us, Mr. Walker." Beck glared at them, unmoving, but after a moment, Travis loosened his grip and slowly detached himself to go and sit on the sofa. Beck hesitated before joining him.

"Smart move. Now, let me introduce myself. I am Special Agent Tom Sanderson with the FBI. This is my partner, Special Agent Jason Morrissey." The first agent said. He was darker skinned, but it wasn't entirely clear what nationality he might be and he was tall, Beck could tell despite the fact that he was still sitting, and slight. The other agent, Morrissey, was younger, but not by much and with black curly hair and olive-toned skin. He was also shorter, probably about Travis' height, but broader in the shoulder and he looked as though he had some Greek in him.

Travis nodded mechanically through the introductions. Beck kept his glare steady. "We've been following you for almost a year. We've done extensive research, looking into your past and the dynamics of your family. You have been established as the primary candidate to infiltrate Walker's business and get us names, dates and locations, particularly regarding the drugs and weapons."

"What family dynamics?" Travis snapped sarcastically, "I'll tell you what family dynamics there were. NONE. You wanna know what happened in our family? Billy married mom, got her pregnant, beat her and divorced her. Showed up when I was 7. Got her hooked on heroin." Travis took a deep breath here, his chest already heaving.

Beck had heard the long version once before, almost immediately after they left L.A. Beck had wanted to know what their story was and Travis had been looking for some catharsis, so he'd simply talked. It was hard to hear, not just in the amounts of abuse and neglect that Travis had received, but also in the ways that it mirrored his own life, and he marveled at how well Travis had done for himself. Even as Billy had manipulated and pressured him, Travis had still refused to enter into his dark world, and there were moments when Beck hated himself for not being as strong as the younger man.

Travis started talking again, "He decided I wasn't worth anything yet, left. Showed up when I was 11. Took me away. Tried to train me to be one of his lackeys. Discovered it wasn't working and dumped me at moms a year later. Showed up when I was 15. Tried to convince me to start selling coke at school. I refused and threatened to go to the cops. He beat the crap out of me and left again. He showed up when I graduated, with a red shiny convertible as a present, but only if I agreed to come stay with him for a couple of years. I refused. He threatened to murder my mom. I went with him and stayed until I got notice that my mother died from a heroin overdose while I was away. I left and the only reason I ever went back was because I was dragged there." Travis was shaking, and Beck reached over and grasped his knee firmly. The FBI agents had not visibly reacted to any of Travis' statements.

"We are aware of this, yes." Sanderson said finally.

"If you've been following us, then you know all the shit that's happened over the last year, right? And you'll realize that Travis won't be safe if he goes back." Beck cut in, frowning.

"We understand there will be certain… risks, but we're confident that in the end, it will be worth it." Morrissey said.

"It can't be worth it if he's killed! Do you even know what kind of shit he went through when Billy had him!" Beck snarled.

"We know that Billy used to beat Travis with an electric cord and lock him in a closet for hours at a time, and that, according to a school counselor and primary care physician, he suffered night terrors for years after." Sanderson said coolly and he leaned forward as he continued, "Do you know what happens if you _don't _do this? You both go to prison to stay in little cells not much bigger than that closet, and you get locked in there for years. And you don't want to know what happens to lippy, handsome white boys in prison, especially when they don't have their Neanderthal boyfriends to protect them."

Beck's adrenaline surged in rage and he clenched both his fists and his jaw to keep from lashing out, "On what charges?" He snarled even though he knew there would be no shortage of charges against him.

"For you? Multiple counts of murder, committed in and outside of the United States, theft, extortion… if you want we can go beyond the last three years, Mr. Beck. For Travis here, well, aiding and abetting, conspiracy to commit murder, murder, refusing to report a crime. Really, must I go on?" Sanderson said, a smirk on his face, "Suffice to say, you will be in for life. Travis will be in for all the life that counts, if there's anything left of him once he's released anyway." The agent was silent for a beat before he added, "Oh hey, wasn't _your _father in prison? I'm sure he used to tell you all kinds of fun stories."

"Look," Morrissey interrupted, sliding a glance to Sanderson, "We want to put Billy behind bars. We have one man inside already. He just can't get Billy to trust him. We need someone who Billy will allow access to all manner of the business. Travis, he wants to train you. He wants an "heir" to his empire, so to speak. That's why he's been trying to hunt you down. I'm not going to say it'll be fun, or that there aren't risks involved, but if you do this, you will be rewarded, and you two wont have to be in hiding any longer.

"You can finish school and Beck can open his restaurant. You can have normal lives again. I promise you, it will be worth it." Morrissey's voice was calm and earnest.

"His life could be in danger." Beck said.

"Billy wont kill his own son." Sanderson said dismissively, "He's all too willing to believe that Travis can bend to his will, as nearly everyone else does. You would have some experience with Billy's level of persuasion, correct, Beck? Or maybe you just didn't require it all that much."

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, you son of a bitch, but you keep on like that, and I'll end up in jail for _your_ murder!" Beck snarled, standing. Sanderson stood also, hand reaching back to grab his gun and Morrissey jumped up, to stand between them.

"Gentlemen, sit down!" He snarled, glaring at Sanderson, who sat after a brief moments hesitation. Beck went to sit as well, adrenaline pumping fresh through his veins. He was letting the agent get the better of him. Sanderson was bringing up his past mistakes to piss him off. Normally, he wouldn't let this happen. Anger was something he had learned to control. It was something he had to control. But the situation and his concern for Travis was making him edgy. He turned as Travis started to speak.

"If I… If I do this, you have to completely erase our records… and you have to promise to never come back and bother us, ever." Beck stared at him, shaking his head. Travis glanced over at him for a brief second, before returning his gaze to the two agents.

"No. You can't do this. I wont allow it." Beck finally said.

"Travis has made his decision. You can help us or you can refuse to be involved and we'll hold you until it's over, to make sure you don't jeopardize the mission, or Travis." Morrissey said quietly.

"You're not in charge of me, Beck." Travis added. They met eyes and Beck sighed seeing the resolute determined expression that the younger man always got when he set his mind to something. He wasn't going to back down. And if Beck refused to accept that, he'd be taken into custody, away from Travis, and unable to monitor the situation.

"You sure you want to do this, Travis?" He asked one last time, softly, knowing what hell was going to be waiting for his friend. The younger man nodded and they turned to the agents. Once more, Sanderson had a smirk on his stupid smug face. Beck would seriously relish the moment if he was ever given the opportunity to wipe it off his face.

"Great. We're going to want to get started as soon as possible. There's no telling how long it will be before Billy decides to fully trust Travis, especially in regards to business so-" Morrissey started but Beck cut in.

"Wait. So how exactly do you plan on getting Travis in there? There's no way Billy's going to buy Travis suddenly having a change of heart. He'd probably end up under lock and key, without access to anything."

"You know, despite what movies might tell you, we are not incompetent." Morrissey said with the barest hint of a grin.

"Could've fooled me." Beck said, looking at Sanderson rather pointedly. The FBI agent glowered.

"Focus please." Morrissey said before the argument could escalate again. He waited a moment until it was clear that neither side was going to continue the fight. "We're going to have Billy come to you guys instead. According to our man on the inside, Billy is still keeping an eye out for the both of you. We're going to let him catch wind of you. It'll be the same knock down, drag out it usually is, except this time, you let Travis get taken."

"Not here." Travis said suddenly. The agents exchanged a glance.

"Why not?" Sanderson asked and the younger man suddenly looked embarrassed.

"I dunno. I like it here. It's nice. It's, like, our home." He muttered. Warmth blossomed in Beck's chest, quite pleased that Travis shared his sentiment regarding their house. He promptly tried to smother the feeling, now was definitely not the time.

"Fine. We'll get you guys a house set up somewhere else. You'll have to bring enough of your personal items to make it seem believable though." Morrissey continued and Travis nodded assent. "Once your inside, you're going to be completely alone. We wont have any way to communicate with you, though we're trying to work something out."

"You'll get a full run down tomorrow when we bring you into the office." Sanderson added as he and Morrissey stood simultaneously. "If you decide the Neanderthal wants to join us, let me know ahead of time, so we can monkey-proof the debriefing room." By this time, Beck had firmly reined in his temper and merely ignored the jab thought Morrissey did give Sanderson another pointed look.

They all shook hands (neither Beck nor Sanderson bothered with each other) and Morrissey handed them a business card. Plans were made to be picked up at nine the next morning, and Sanderson pointed out that the house was under twenty four hour surveillance, in case they 'got any ideas.'

When Beck finally walked the agents to the door and shut it behind them, he turned around to question Travis on his decision. But stopped when he found he was alone. The hall, the kitchen and the front den were empty. Frowning, he walked past the kitchen to glance into the living room, but found it empty as well. As he moved onto the bedrooms, he heard the shower start up in the bathroom and stopped outside the door, debating whether he should knock it down, or interrogate Travis later.

The decision was made for him when he suddenly realized that the $200 worth of groceries they had just purchased were still sitting out in the back of the SUV and littered all over the kitchen floor. Cursing, he left to salvage what he could.


	3. Chapter 3

It's short, I know. I'll be uploading another, much longer chapter later to make up for it. I'm having severe issues with characterization (at least, in my opinion) and even though I know where the story is heading, I don't feel like I'm being very true to them...

So I regard this chapter with another 'meh.' Let me know what you think. Thanks and enjoy!

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Travis waited until Beck's footsteps exited the hall, before he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, head in his hands. Already the bathroom mirror was fogging up from the running hot water. He bit back a groan at their current situation. Damn. Who the hell was he kidding? Billy was going to tear him apart. Why did he even agree to this? It was crazy! He could still back out if he wanted to. Sure, the agents would be pissed, but so what? They didn't even know what was going to be waiting for him. They didn't know anything! But of course… there was that little issue of prison… but Beck had always gotten them out of tight jams before. Hell, he'd practically taken out an entire army, single-handed!

Travis sighed and slumped even further down, until his head was between his knees. There were too many reasons to do this. To get back at Billy for everything he'd done. And for Beck. Beck didn't deserve prison. He was a good man who'd just made some mistakes.

And he needed to do it for his mother. His mother who had gotten addicted to heroin because of Billy. His mother who had died because Travis hadn't been there to watch her. His mother who had overdosed because she thought her son had abandoned her for his piece of shit father. Billy deserved hell for that. Forget everything else he'd done. For his mother's death alone, he deserved the worst the universe could throw at him. And Travis wouldn't let her down again.

With a resigned sigh, he undressed and stepped under the stream of hot water, resisting the urge to turn down the temperature. He took his time, partly because this would be one of the last showers he'd be able to take in such a relaxed fashion, for a while at least… and partly because he knew Beck was waiting outside to question him. When he finally finished it was only due to having run out of hot water and he stepped from the shower, his skin red and raw and his stomach growling for attention.

As he toweled his hair dry, he glanced at his reflection and was, not for the first time, relieved that he looked more like his mother than his father. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw his fathers face every time he looked in a mirror. Granted, his mother had not been the best parent. He knew that and he accepted it. No one was perfect. Even before Billy had brought her the heroin, she'd had problems with drinking. And yeah, sometimes she forgot to make dinner, or clean the house but she made sure he got to the bus every morning and took care of him relatively well when he was sick. And she told him almost every night how smart he was and how successful he would be in life, and most importantly, she told him she loved him every day. So he was glad that it was her eyes that looked back at him every morning when he brushed his teeth.

Heavy footsteps landed outside the door. Beck had taken up post. There was no getting out of this now. He took one last look at his mother's eyes and swung the bathroom door open, "Can we not do this now?" but the question died in his throat when he saw Beck holding out a plate loaded with chicken, vegetables, and rice. He took it with a mumbled, embarrassed, "Thanks," and edged past Beck to head to the living room, avoiding his gaze. Beck followed him, silently.

Travis slipped into a chair and took several bites, before discovering that even though he was starving, the tension knotted in his stomach refused to permit the food. Somehow, Beck realized as much and took the plate back and instead poured him a glass of ginger ale. Again, Beck said nothing and Travis gritted his teeth. So this was how Beck wanted to play it, huh? Not say anything, wait until everything exploded out of him? Until all the emotions got the better of him, and erupted out? Well, he could keep his mouth shut too and he pressed his lips together tightly. Several moments passed in silence. Travis found his leg bouncing up and down in nervous tension. He resisted the urge to start whistling. He picked at his fingernails, resolutely ignoring Beck who merely watched him. And then,

"I don't know okay! I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world if I do it, right? There are worse things than helping put him behind bars! And they're right, you know! He won't try and kill me! And I'm not saying it's the best situation, I know it's not! But if it keeps us out of prison, and together, then who cares? Besides, if he gets put in prison, then we wont have to worry about running for the rest of our lives! And that FBI guy was right! You'll be able to open up a restaurant, which is, like, your dream! So what's the big deal? We all get something out of it right?" The words flew forth in a fit of anger born from anxiety and Beck waited patiently until he was done.

"I know why you want to do it." Beck said finally, in a calm, reassuring tone, "I'm just worried that it's going to be too much for you. I know Billy and you've told me what he's done to you. I just don't want you to come back somebody else." Travis felt his face flush with embarrassment and he looked away. Did Beck think that he wouldn't be able to handle it? That Billy would be able to 'turn' him or something? The thought stung like a barb and he looked down at his fidgety hands instead of meeting Beck's eyes.

"I'll be fine." He finally muttered. Beck was silent for a long moment.

"Okay. I don't like it, and I don't agree with it… but okay, I'm behind you on this." Beck said. Travis turned to look at him, surprised. "It's not like I trust those agents to actually do their job." He added with a small grin.

"Really? So you're going to come with me tomorrow?" Travis asked smiling.

"Yeah, I'm going to be with you the whole way." Beck nodded and quite abruptly, leaned over and planted a surprisingly soft kiss on Travis' forehead. When he pulled back, he looked distinctly shocked and tore from the room, leaving a stunned Travis frozen on the sofa, "You better get to sleep. I'm sure it's going to be a long day tomorrow!" Beck shouted from the hallway.

For several moments, Travis sat there, unmoving and unthinking. When he finally stood up, he discovered his legs were shaking.

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Oh yeah, so apparently, I fibbed about not having 'romantical' things, lol... but well... obviously the guys wont be together for much of the story. After all, Travis _is _going in the lions den. R&R!


	4. Chapter 4

*EDIT* Okay, seriously, every attempt I've done to create breaks between segments and POV switches keep disappearing. Sorry, it must seem pretty amateurish. I didn't even realize til just now, so from now I'm just going to do the line thing, since it seems like the only formatting that it will allow me to do. UGH.

Told you! Um... not much to say on this one really... I'm exhausted, still have finals to take care of, but that's why procrastination is beautiful. :D

I don't really have a reasonable explanation for why there's a small segment toward the end where it's Travis perspective, except that I thought it was funnier, plus I had intended to end the chapter there and then Beck was like 'Hold up a second!' and made tack on that last bit, lol.

Enjoy and Review, please!

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Travis woke to a pounding on his door and groaned, rolling over to look at the clock. Beck always woke him at ungodly hours like six and seven in the morning. He assumed it was because Beck couldn't sleep in and wanted to torture Travis because he was jealous. Looking at the red blinking numbers, he was surprised to see it was 8:42. He leapt out of bed with a strangled cry and burst out of the bedroom, nearly running head long into Beck, who sidestepped him at the last second. He flew to the bathroom, took care of business, and washed his face.

He'd been hoping to talk with Beck about the night before, but now there wouldn't be time before the FBI escort picked them up. As he patted his face dry, he realized there had been nothing to talk about anyway. It had been a familial kiss; like a father would give his son, or something. Beck was just trying to be encouraging or whatever. He glared at his reflection for being stupid and sneered out, "You're a loser," before turning away.

An angry sigh escaped him as he left the bathroom but his mood lifted as the smell of bacon called to him from the kitchen. There he found a plate with two breakfast sandwiches and swept it up, devouring the first in two bites, half-afraid Beck had made these for himself and would come in and take them away.

Beck walked in as he tried to finish chewing without choking, and grimaced, "And the agent called me the Neanderthal." He muttered as he poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to Travis, who took it gratefully and used the liquid to ease the half chewed food down his throat, "Well, if this all goes to hell, at least we know you've got the prison-style eating down." He added as Travis moved onto the second sandwich. Travis glared at him between bites.

Once the plate had been cleaned, Travis turned to Beck, "Hey, so I've been thinking-"

"Wait, I think I just heard a car horn." Beck said heading down the hall suddenly, "Come on, we don't want to keep them waiting." He called behind him. Travis stared after him irritated before following Beck out onto the sunlight porch. The street was completely empty in either direction.

"I think your hearing's going, Big Boy." Travis said, "Getting a little long in the tooth?" he laughed.

"Shut up." Beck said giving him the "look," that said he was going to be in serious trouble.

"Wha-What is that?" Travis said, suddenly serious as he leaned forward, pointing at Beck's head.

"What? What is it? Get it off!" Beck said, on edge. Travis had to hold back a snicker. During their time in the jungle, he'd discovered that Beck, the massive, serious, badass was afflicted by the very common fear of spiders and while he didn't much care for the things, it was hilarious that Beck, of all people, was terrified of them. Travis reached over and plucked a hair from Beck's heard, still fighting back laughter.

"Oh no. It's okay. It's just a gray hair." Travis anticipated the fist coming his way and ducked away from it, laughing as he did so and preparing to run if Beck decided to give chase. At that moment, however, a car slid into the driveway and both men turned. The door opened and a man half stood out of it.

"Mr. Beck? Mr. Walker? I'm Agent Sebastian Cruz, here to take to you to base." He said and flashed them his badge. Travis sprinted to the front passenger door, which was empty. He had just slid into the seat when a hand grasped the back of his neck and hauled him out.

"Hey!"

"Back seat." Beck said simply.

"You're such an ass." Travis grumbled.

"What?" Beck snapped in his 'angry' voice.

"Nothing, whatever." Travis slid into the back seat and scooted to the middle where he leaned forward and reached a hand forward.

"Touch the radio and I will break your fingers." Beck threatened. Travis hesitated before withdrawing his hand and falling back into his seat with an irritated sigh. The agent looked at them confused, but said nothing before backing out of the driveway. Travis determinedly maintained silence long enough to let Beck know he was mad at him before leaning forward between the seats again.

"So, Agent Cruz, been with the FBI for long?" He asked.

"About three years."

"You ever kill anyone?"

"Nope."

"You ever done an undercover mission?"

"Nope."

"So, do you and the CIA have a rivalry going on? 'Cause I saw this movie once where there was-" Beck turned around and grabbed his face, just tight enough to pinch. The agent glanced over, another confused look on his face.

"If you value your life at all, you will shut up right now." Beck said in a low, controlled tone. He released Travis's face slowly and waited half a second before turning back to the front.

"If I valued my life at all, I wouldn't be here." Travis muttered under his breath as he slumped backward once more. He hadn't intended for Beck to hear, but he glanced up a second later and found Beck's eyes staring at him in the visors mirror. He crossed his arms and turned away, frowning, feeling childish and mopey.

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Beck couldn't get what Travis had said out his head. It kept echoing in his ears like a hollow room echoes a shout, and he mentally kicked himself for being a jerk. The last thing the kid needed was to be hassled, he'd sure as hell get more than his fair share by the time this was over. Why be an ass to someone who was going to be surrounded by a herd of them for who knew how long? The rest of the ride passed in silence and by the time they pulled in front of a small office building, Beck seriously regretted saying anything. Agent Cruz parked out front and ushered them inside. They were led up two flights of stairs and into a large room where they walked in on Morrissey and Sanderson, whose backs were to the door.

"-my biggest concern, there have been even more bodies turning up and they all-" Morrissey was saying when Cruz rapped on the door and cleared his throat. Morrissey cut himself off and both agents turned. They were standing at the edge of a long, wooden table with several chairs placed around it. A laptop and a projector sat atop it and a white screen hung from the wall. Travis waltzed in with an exaggerated swagger and Beck followed, rolling his eyes.

Sanderson sneered at him, "I see monkey boy decided to come along, after all."

"Well, he is _my_ monkey boy." Travis grinned and Beck was partially amused by the comment, but annoyed at the fake smile plastered on Travis' face, and dealt with the confusion by swatting Travis across the back of his head. The younger man ignored it and flopped down into one of the chairs and swung his feet up on the table. Beck fought the reaction to shove his feet off, but it wasn't his table and he didn't particularly care how the agents felt about dirty, worn boots on their clean table.

"So, let's not waste time." Morrissey said and pressed a button on a remote he produced from his pocket. The screen lit up with an image of Billy's home. Two men were snapped running down the front steps. Beck turned to stare at the agents, shocked when he realized who the men were, but Morrissey cut him off before he could speak, "We had surveillance on the house at that point, yes. Of course, when the photo was taken, we had no idea who Travis was. Beck, well you've been on our radar for a while now. When we realized who Travis was we put a tail on you guys, but went ahead with our original plan. Our man spent his time earning Billy's trust and he went pretty high, and it's obvious Billy likes him but he's not getting much information that we can use. Billy plays everything pretty close to the chest, especially regarding where his hand-offs go down. So our guy started digging around about you, while we did the same on the outside, learning about the both of you."

"You _and_ your families…" Sanderson added and took the remote from Morrissey's hand. Another photo appeared and Beck's heart dropped to his stomach and he felt his face flush with rage. White knuckles gripped the table and he forced himself to remain calm. Travis turned to him.

"Is that your family? Who are those people? Is that your mom? How old were you there?"

"Shut up Travis." And Beck glared at Sanderson, aware that his hands were shaking. A moment of pale, thin silence passed and Morrissey snatched the remote back from Sanderson, a sharp reprimand in the gaze.

"Not pertinent." Morrissey said in a low growl and directed the comment at Sanderson, whose eyes flashed momentarily.

"Maybe, maybe not." Sanderson said in a dismissive tone. The screen changed again and this time, it was a photo of several men at bar.

"This group is most of Billy's upper management." Morrissey continued. Beck was surprised to see that he didn't recognize anyone. Even though he had been more freelance than lackey, he always made it a point to be aware of Billy's other 'employees.' He must have cleaned house at some point after their departure. Or maybe they'd all been taken out chasing after them. A sour taste found its way to his mouth at the thought, and he glanced over at Travis. The taste dissolved almost as quickly, a part of him reassured that it had all happened for a good reason.

Morrissey clicked to the next photo, which featured a close-up of a man from the previous photo, "Thiago Caycedo. Very intelligent, actually studied at UCLA. Took over Billy's equivalent of Human Resources. Does a lot of delegation and mediation." The man was hunched up over his beer, a look of disgust on his face as he reacted to the men beside him.

The next photo was a thickset man, with tattoos up and down his arms. Billy's typical meathead, "This is Jack Madrone. Head of Security. Scary enough to be in charge, but a moron." The next one was Al Myna, an older man with an ugly sneer on his face who acted as Billy's personal assistant. Then Stephen Crawford, a hulking monster who dealt with incidents that required certain interrogation techniques. Then Frank Warner, thin and reedy, and Damon Richards, short but bulky, both of whom provided additional help wherever was needed.

"We're showing you these men because they'll be the ones you'll see and deal with most often. They practically live in Billy's home and they'll have the most interaction with you." Morrissey said, "They are all incredibly dangerous, and we suggest that you do your best to avoid them. I cannot stress this enough. We're not certain that even with Billy there, they wont hurt you."

"Especially if you can't keep your mouth shut." Sanderson added although, even to Beck, he appeared quite serious and concerned.

"And the spy?" Travis asked.

"You wont know the identity of our man. Any little thing could give both of you away, and I wont risk it." Morrissey said firmly and then closed the laptop, "He has been informed about you, and will do his best to keep an eye on you."

"Have you figured out how Travis will communicate with us?" Beck asked. The question was one of several he wanted answered before they even thought about letting Travis go in. He wasn't going to permit unnecessary risk-taking.

"Not entirely." Morrissey admitted, sliding into the seat at the end. "It's easier with our guy. He can come and go as he pleases…"

"We do have one idea." Sanderson said, "It's fairly old-school. But Billy gets the paper every day of the week. And every night, it ends up in his recycling. If you can manage to get a hold of the paper, you can leave us messages through there. So, even if we can't communicate with you, you can let us know what's going."

"What and just hope no one notices the notes scribbled in it? Or that lines have been underlined?" Beck snapped.

"No, moron." Sanderson said and then turned to Travis, "You ever do the crossword?"

"Sometimes, sure."

"Well, it's going to be your new favorite hobby, okay kid?" Sanderson continued, "Any time you want to share information with us. You do the crossword. We're going to look at the answers you get wrong. So, if say, you want to tell us… Billy has a list of drop sites for drugs. You find the crossword. Fill out what you can, and then improvise a message. Maybe have an incorrect answer of 'location,' or 'place,' with an intersecting answer of 'coke.'"

"That sounds incredibly complicated." Travis said, an eyebrow quirked in disbelief.

"And unfortunately, it's our best bet right now." Morrissey sighed.

"Besides, you went to Stanford. I think you'll do just fine." Sanderson grinned, and even had the gall to wink at Travis. Beck only watched, equally enraged and dumbfounded. What was Sanderson's game? He'd understood the FBI agent's contempt for him. He was a criminal. It wasn't hard to figure out why Sanderson was a jackass to him, but why kid around with Travis? Unless it was just to piss Beck off? Travis merely appeared flattered by the comment and Beck tried to let it go, but found it difficult.

"Do either of you have any questions?"

"So what if Billy locks Travis up and he doesn't get the chance to learn anything?" Beck asked.

"Like we said before, Billy wants Travis to learn the trade. He wants to trust him. It may take some time, but we believe completely that Billy will open up to him relatively quickly." Morrissey said.

"Okay, so what if he doesn't. How long do you guys intend to continue the operation?" Beck asked, frowning. Morrissey let a weary sigh escape him.

"As long as Travis can handle it."

The rest of the day passed slowly. The crossword communication plan soon went from being their best bet, to their only bet and Travis, Beck and the two agents worked for several hours on coming up with appropriate code words, including several that signified imminent danger and the retrieval of important information. They were given an hour break for lunch and Agent Cruz brought them all Chinese food. Sanderson took his and left the room and Morrissey followed with an exasperated sigh and a pained expression. Thankfully, Cruz proved to be better company and spent the hour with them, joking and laughing with Travis. Beck had been half-afraid that Travis hadn't quite forgotten the incident from last night, even after all the trouble he'd gone to, to avoid the conversation. First, by letting Travis sleep all morning and then by distracting him until they were picked up. It was pathetic, and he knew it, but it definitely wasn't something he was looking forward to talking about.

It had been a stupid mistake on his part. A stupid, foolish mistake that only served to complicate their situation further. And Travis didn't need to be worried about what the hell was going on with Beck. Especially when Beck didn't even know himself. Which was just another reason to hope the younger man wouldn't bring it up, ever. That was one awkward conversation he could do without.

The only edible part of the takeout was the sesame chicken and rice and Beck chewed it distastefully. His headache which had begun the moment he woke only worsened as the day progressed and despite the fact that he was happy Travis was laughing, the two younger men were getting increasingly loud and obnoxious, making his head pound. Abruptly he stood, interrupting Travis' imitation from a movie he and Cruz had both seen, "You got a bathroom here?"

"Oh yeah, it'll be down the hall, second door on the left." Cruz said. Beck left the room, relieved to be free of the younger men's chatter and the increasingly cramped room. He found the bathroom with ease and took his time, enjoying the quiet and the opportunity to stretch his legs. On his way back, a raised voice from a cracked door caught his attention and he slowed, curious.

"-sorry, I am. But if you cannot keep yourself under control or if you pull another stunt like that, I'm going to request they reassign you." A voice Beck recognized as Morrissey, smooth and controlled.

"Oh, come on Jace!" This one, Sanderson, exasperated, "I'm not out of control. This is just like any other case. Any other dirt bag." Even more intrigued, Beck edged closer to the room, careful to steer clear of the opening in the door.

"Except that it's not." Morrissey said firmly, "You agreed before we started this, that you would be able to handle it." There was a brief pause, "Look Tom, no one will blame you for backing out. It's a tough situation, and I would be just as angry as you are, but you cannot let it undermine the mission."

There was low, sharp reply that Beck's ears didn't quite catch and then movement and footsteps. Startled, Beck darted back to the bathroom and ducked in, closing the door as quickly and quietly as he could. He then went to the sink and ran the water, wetting his hands. The door to the bathroom opened a moment later and he glanced over. Sanderson's dark eyes met his own and the hate in the stare stilled him. The hate in the gaze was personal. Growing up, he'd seen the generalized rage and contempt in the eyes of many men. Men who were born with hate in their hearts and needed no reason to give it out. But this was not the glare of a man who hated easily or freely. This had been earned, and for the life of him, he couldn't understand how or when.

The agent never broke eye contact as he made his way to the stall and Beck wanted to knock the man to the floor out of a long ingrained habit. In an earlier time, this disrespect would not have been allowed, but Beck wasn't that person any more, and so he just waited until the latch on the stall closed before he dried his hands and left the room.

By the time he returned to the debriefing room, Morrissey had already joined Cruz and Travis, and the room had been cleaned somewhat in his absence. Beck didn't miss the appraising look Morrissey gave him. Clearly he wouldn't have been surprised if Beck had walked in disheveled from a fight with Sanderson, and only when Sanderson walked into the room, unharmed, a minute later did Morrissey finally let out a breath. As the discussions commenced, Beck leaned back and thought over the conversation he'd overheard and what it might mean.

* * *

They spent over twelve hours going over every possible detail and problem that might arise. And by eleven that night, Travis was leaning over the table, struggling to stay awake. The last two hours had been a painful fight to remain focused on the conversation happening around him. Beck would be pissed if he realized Travis had not really been paying attention, so Travis nodded habitually and made faces every once in awhile, pretending to be involved in the discussion. Finally, his head slipped from his hand and he slammed face first into the hardwood table. There was a quick internal argument before he decided he was happy where he was and closed his eyes.

The room was quiet and then, "Okay, looks like we're done for the night. Guess we'll pick it up tomorrow, same time." Morrissey said. A stupid, sleepy grin took over Travis face as he forced himself upward. Already, a puddle of drool had appeared on the table and he saw Beck grimace at it and his sleepy grin widened. The agents started collecting the papers spread across the table and Beck stood and reached over to help Travis from his seat.

"Cruz will be waiting right outside for you guys." Morrissey said and Travis leaned pathetically against Beck, wondering if he could get the older man to piggyback him to the car.

"Let's go."

"Beck…" Travis said, a pleading tone already in his voice.

"No. Walk yourself. You're a grown man." Beck said.

"Then why are you always telling me-"

"Just because you act like a child doesn't make you one. Let's go." Beck pointed toward the door and Travis sighed, and headed toward it, dragging his feet.

"Also, guys, tomorrow we're going to drop you off at the other house, so bring a bag of clothes and some personal items." Sanderson said before they made it out the door and Travis nodded, already plotting to make Beck pack for him.

The instant he slid on to the cars seat, he was asleep.

* * *

Beck waited until Travis started snoring before he turned to Cruz. The yellow glare of the passing streetlights illuminated the heavy bags underneath his eyes and Beck knew it was the perfect opportunity to do any digging, when the other man was exhausted, "Agent Cruz, I'm a little curious." Cruz glanced over at him questioningly, "How much do you know about Agent Sanderson?"

"What do you mean?" Cruz asked.

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Oh no. I've never worked with him or Jason before this. But they've been partners for a while now. If you want to know anything, you'll have to talk with one of them." Cruz said and then hesitated before continuing, "Probably be best if you just asked Tom straight up, you know?" Beck made a noncommittal noise and looked out the window. Like hell he was going to ask Sanderson anything. He'd do this his way. He wasn't going to be at any sort of disadvantage.

When they pulled into the driveway, Cruz added, "Tom's a good guy though. Believes in doing the right thing." Beck didn't bother voicing his thought that many men acting in good cause or good faith did absolutely the wrong things. What was that saying? 'The road to hell was paved with good intentions.' Beck knew that personally.

* * *

So what'd you think? Tell me! :D


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, I hope there aren't too many mistakes. I didn't read through it very well because I wanted to hurry up and post something for you guys.

Please enjoy! (And let me recommend that no one EVER take condensed summer quarter classes, especially not three at once. It's a sick masochistic thing to do!) Which reminds me, when writing by hand, I don't write out full names, but tend to just use the first letter (especially if they're long names) so while writing this story, I suddenly realized that every time I wrote a scene with my federal agents, I was writing S&M, which immediately made me break into giggles, lol.

Anyway, enjoy! :)

* * *

The morning came to early for both men and Travis somehow found himself sitting at the breakfast bar, alternating between scowling at a cup of coffee and watching Beck move around the kitchen with a skill and grace that seemed unnatural for such a large man. There were already two suitcases sitting in the hall by the door (Travis had halfheartedly started packing until Beck got fed up with his snails pace and took over, Travis had tried not to grin) and Beck was now going through all the perishable foods (because he "hadn't just bought all this food to let it go to waste") and was muttering as he packed meat into a handheld cooler.

"So whatchya gonna make me?" Travis asked.

"Make you? For what?"

"For my last meal. Before the goons come and get me." Beck paused in his movements and Travis wished that his back wasn't to him. He wanted to see Beck's expression, but the other man just continued his packing.

"We don't even know when that's going to happen."

"So? I have to have a last meal. Who knows what they'll try and feed me?" Travis tried to hide his grin as Beck turned to shoot him a skeptical look.

"You eat crap all the time. You had a _Big Mac _last week." Beck said with disgust.

"But you've spoiled me. What am I gonna do if I can't have any of your weird ravioli stuff-"

"You mean gnocchi?"

"-or your funky lasagna-"

"The lasagna Bolognese with eggplant?"

"Exactly!" Travis said, "Where am I going to get weird shit like that?" Beck was silent for a few minutes and Travis was just beginning to think that he was going to be ignored when Beck turned to look at him directly.

"Okay. What do you want?"

For a moment, Travis was speechless and then he grinned, "As long as it's got meat, I don't care." Beck nodded and moved on to sorting through the fruits and vegetables.

* * *

Cruz pulled up to the house late and looked a little harried when they made their way to the car, laden with the two suitcases, the cooler and several canvas bags full of food. Travis cast one last look at the house as they pulled away. His home. An unpleasant feeling curled into his belly as he watched it disappear, feeling like he'd never see it again. And he barely contained a semi-hysteric laugh as he realized there was a pretty good chance he wouldn't. It came out a bark and he managed to cover it by coughing, although Beck turned to look at him, concerned.

"Any chance we can go to the house before we go to the office?" Beck asked Cruz as they pulled onto a main road.

"Uh, let me clear it with Jason first." Cruz whipped out a cell phone and as he called Morrissey, Travis leaned forward between the seats.

"I want those stuffed peppers too. Those are awesome."

"Alright. Anything else, your majesty?" Beck asked dryly.

"Beer. None of that floozy wine shit you always buy." He said firmly and smiled when Beck rolled his eyes.

"Okay, princess." Beck said just as Cruz hung up his cell phone.

"He said it's okay. They're running a bit late too."

The drive to the house took a half an hour into a much poorer neighborhood down an old thoroughfare and passed an old, abandoned factory. A row of decrepit houses greeted them as they turned into a cul de sac. Of the six houses, five had foreclosure signs staked into the brown lawns and the sixth looked as though it hadn't been lived in for years. Cruz pulled the car in front of the third house, one of the foreclosed houses.

"Nice place." Travis said and Beck snorted.

"We figured it would minimize any possible casualties. There's only one resident here, over in that house." He gestured at the house at the beginning of the cul de sac. The one without a foreclosure sign, "Guy works night shifts. Sleeps during the day. Hopefully if something happens, he'll be smart and stay inside."

"Living here, I'm sure he knows to be smart." Beck said and Travis found himself nodding. They all got out and Cruz popped the trunk and produced a key.

"The folks that lived here were evicted about a month ago. They left most of their stuff behind, so it's furnished." Travis frowned, already feeling slightly dirty for going into someone else's home and now they'd be using stuff the people hadn't been able to take with them. A glance at Beck told him the other man felt similarly, but neither said anything as they hauled their stuff into the house. Inside, the living room was completely furnished. Beck went to kitchen to put the food away, but Travis was reluctant to go further than the entry way. Already the house had a stale quality to it and Travis suppressed a shiver as he looked around.

"Alright, I'm ready to go to work." He said finally, injecting a false cheeriness into his voice as he fled the house. Cruz and Beck followed.

* * *

Their day at work wasn't much more cheerful although Beck and Sanderson managed to keep their animosity to low level. All of their code words were making his head hurt. Weird things like 'fichus' and 'pop tart' were used to signal that everything was going okay and 'martian' and 'arsenic' for if he was in some kind of danger. There was no way he'd be able to keep all of these straight and even though he knew it wasn't a smart idea, Travis kept reassuring himself that if worse came to worst, he would sneak away and call Beck's cell phone.

And then he kept imagining all kinds of things that could go wrong with this. Maybe Billy really didn't want him back to teach him the trade. Maybe he just wanted to send him to Chicago to face that mobster. Maybe he just wanted him back to torture him. Or worse. Travis still remembered the poor guy that had pissed off Billy too many times. It had happened when Billy had taken him for that year when he was 11. Travis had made wary friends with a young lackey. His name was Josh, just a few years older than him, maybe 18 at the most. Travis wasn't even sure what he'd done to piss off Billy so much, but he remembered clearly the way Josh had screamed and begged as he'd been dragged out the front door by two goons Travis had never seen before. He later learned that while Billy didn't have his hands in the sex trade, plenty of his associates did. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about what had become of his friend. And he barely stopped a shudder making its way up his back when he realized someone was speaking to him.

"-avis?" He blinked and looked up from the table, frantically trying to recall what had just been said and failing.

"Huh? What?"

"We were wondering what you wanted for lunch." Cruz said, half-worried, half-amused.

"Um, whatever. I don't care."

"Are you okay?" Beck asked and Travis avoided his concerned gaze by dropping his eyes to the table.

"Fine, yeah."

"You're pale, and sweating."

"Uh, yeah. That coffee, I-uh, I gotta run to the bathroom." and without another word he stood and left the room, avoiding everyone's eyes. He was breathing hard by the time he made it to the restroom and one glance in the mirror told him that Beck hadn't been exaggerating. He looked like he was about to faint. And he felt like it too. Just as he bent over to splash water on his face, the urge to throw up became to strong and he dove for the closest toilet, barely making it as the vomit spewed out. The porcelain was cool beneath his hot fingers as his stomach emptied itself. Coffee, eggs and toast, and finally just bile.

He was wiping away sweat from his forehead and shivering when a familiar, warm hand started stroking his back. It was comforting and he accepted the gesture gratefully.

"Feeling better?"

"A bit." He mumbled, then to try and save some face, "You put poison in the coffee this morning or what?"

"Yeah. It was supposed to kill you though. Guess I didn't add enough." Beck said and Travis heard the grin in his voice.

"Next time, then." He said and turned to stand. Beck helped him up and guided him to the sink, hands resting comfortably on his hips.

"I'll see if they have gum or hell, hopefully some toothpaste." Beck said and he nodded as he tried to pretend that the sudden absence of Beck's hands didn't make his stomach knot up again. He bent down to rinse his mouth and wash his face, listening as the door swished shut. It opened again a few minutes later, a triumphant Beck brandishing a travel-sized bottle of Listerine.

"He said you can have the whole thing."

"Awesome." Just having a clean face and fresh breath made him feel almost human when he finally got up the nerve to return to the meeting room. It was empty and he turned to Beck.

"Cruz and Sanderson went for food. I think Morrissey went to make some phone calls."

Travis nodded and made his way to his chair, collapsing into it as he tried hard not to think about anything that might make him upchuck again. Beck was leaning against the wall, watching him.

"You want to talk about it?"

"You wanna start sharing feelings, Big Boy?" Travis said, smirk already in place. "Maybe we could have a slumber party too! Paint our toenails and have makeovers and everything!"

"Fine, suit yourself." Beck said and left the room. An unpleasant ache settled in his chest as he watched his friend walk away. But he ground his teeth and stared hard at the wall. That's what he'd wanted anyway, right? To keep Beck away, to stop him asking questions, to stop him from caring. He didn't have the right to mope about it.

* * *

Beck stalked down the hall, not really caring where he was going but needing to get away as he tried to understand how Travis, that obnoxious _child, _could elicit so many emotions from him. Anger (which was at least understandable) and protectiveness and concern (which he'd already given up trying to understand) and those other bothersome feelings that twisted up in his gut and made him want to-No, he was NOT going to go there. Those were too dangerous to invest any thought in. It was safer just to squash them down into a little box and shove them to the back of his mind.

He found himself at the front doors and the fresh air was a welcome relief as he stepped outside. He could barely remember a time when he preferred the smog and heat of L.A. to the fresh, brisk air of Colorado.

The mountains were peeking out over a layer of morning fog that had yet to lift, the sun still chasing away the remnants of the cool night. It was a beautiful morning and he entertained the idea of letting Travis take him camping, like he'd been pestering him to. Beck was still a city boy though and he hadn't yet recovered from the trauma that was the Brazilian jungle. Still though, camping in the woods was a far cry from camping in the jungle. At least there wouldn't be monkeys. Yeah, maybe he and Travis would go on a camping trip. And then it struck him that they might not get the chance and the mountains and the fog and the sun suddenly seemed less friendly, more ominous and he turned away to make his way back inside.

Morrissey had made his way to the meeting room and Travis was sitting next time, chattering incessantly and Beck tried not to notice that Travis didn't look up at all as he walked in. He made a quick promise to try and not get mad at Travis again, at least not until this whole thing was over and done with.

Sanderson and Cruz returned a few minutes later with a couple of pizzas and a salad from a local pizza place. By then, Travis had recovered completely and inhaled several slices before taking a break to breath. Beck watched him, torn between disgust and amusement, until he realized Sanderson was staring at _him, _a sneer evident on his face. Annoyed, Beck stared back and neither looked away until Morrissey coughed pointedly.

The rest of the day passed without incident. They finalized code words and quizzed Travis on them, and the individuals they'd been shown the first day, with Morrissey once again emphasizing that they should be avoided at all costs. They were reassured that there would be eyes on Billy's house at all times and that if anything were to go wrong, they'd have help there almost immediately. Just as Beck was going to ask when everything was going to happen, Morrissey beat him to the punch.

"Now, I know this is going to seem really soon, but tomorrow our man is going to get word to Walker that you've been located." Beck's heart thudded once in his chest and he slid a glance to Travis who suddenly looked almost as pale as he had earlier.

"Tomorrow?" Travis managed to croak out.

"Yes. Which means we wont be meeting face to face any more. You can call us, but we'll be staying out of sight. We don't know when they'll be coming, but it'll probably be soon." Morrissey said.

"Tomorrow?" Travis repeated, this time in a faint voice.

"That is really soon." Beck said and he almost missed the barely imperceptible glance that the two agents exchanged before Morrissey responded.

"It's important that this happen as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the less control we're going to have on how everything goes down. We promise you, there will be people watching you at all times."

"Right." Beck said doubtfully as he tried to decipher the exchange between the two agents.

"We suggest you get a good nights sleep and try and prepare yourself, okay?" Sanderson said, looking at Travis, who nodded though his expression indicated he was deep in his own thoughts, "You're gonna be alright. You'll do great." And at this Travis gave a thin smile. Beck tried not to roll his eyes.

"Cruz is going to drop you off again. You have all of our numbers?" Morrissey said standing and Beck tapped the side of his head to indicate he'd already memorized them, "Good, you call us the second Travis is gone. You'll fly with us back to L.A. and one of our other agents is going to follow Travis for as long as it's safe." He held out his hand to Beck and then Travis, "Good luck. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Yeah." Travis said, with feigned nonchalance and he walked almost mechanically toward the door. Beck moved to follow but Sanderson stepped in his path.

"Don't get shot." The agent said with half a smirk, clearly wanting him to get shot.

"Don't worry, I wont." Beck said and pushed by him, eager to catch up with his friend who had already made his way to the front of the building with Cruz. He seemed almost frozen, expressionless and just as Beck reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, the younger man ducked away.

"I'm alright." He said firmly and Beck's hand dropped to his side, useless. The trip to their 'decoy' house was quiet and the only words spoken were by Cruz when he dropped them off.

"Good luck, guys. Stay safe." and Beck couldn't even muster a response as Travis exited the vehicle in silence. With a wave at Cruz, he followed Travis, a terrible, ominous feeling gripping him as he made his way up the walk. There was no way this was going to end well…


End file.
